


Boys on the slope

by Blanquette



Series: Wild Days [6]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animals, Boys Kissing, Identity, Laying in the grass, M/M, One Shot, Painting, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 17:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13908672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blanquette/pseuds/Blanquette
Summary: Minhyuk finds an old house he wants to paint. He brings Hyungwon, just because. Feelings are acknowledge, and something new might bloom.





	Boys on the slope

**Author's Note:**

> Work was boring, and these boys needed some sort of conclusion, so here it is. It was typed on my phone until I reworked it a bit from home and I apologized if it still seems kinda rushed.
> 
> I think it will be the last one shot strictly about them in this series.

1.

They're lying on a grassy slope gently arching down towards the little hiking trail that brought them here, eyes closed, the sun warming their faces and their listless bodies. Minhyuk has a lazy, absent sort of smile on his lips and he's stretching from time to time, wriggling, shifting his bony limbs this way and that.

Hyungwon remains unmoving at his side, stretched out like a starfish. He's envisioning his mind wafting out of his body in waves, vine-like tendrils probing and exploring and feeling everything. The cushy bed of moss and grass blades under his back, the crumbling house to his left, and the smell, too, of drying paint and summer, really, a heavy smell of seared earth and sunshine.

But above all, it's Minhyuk that he feels, hyperaware of the boy at his side, of each movements of his skinny limbs, of his rising and falling chest, of his worn-out shirt riding up on his taut stomach every time he stretches, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. Skinny, too skinny.

Hyungwon could touch him if he would just stretch his fingers a bit more, warm skin and soft hair within reach. There's a thump in his chest just at the thought and he closes his eyes tighter as he holds his breath. He wonders if the boy at his side can feel him this acutely, too. Wonders if he thinks of touching him, and if his heart beats faster when he does. Wonders if maybe instead, his mind is still filled with sharp cheekbones and dark hair, still filled with darker eyes yet that harbor a kind of fierce, protective rage rising to every challenge. 

Minhyuk never says anything, but Hyungwon knows, because it is there in lingering stares and shiny eyes every time they are around the other boy. It's okay, though, Hyungwon finds that he doesn't mind too much. As long as Minhyuk still lays beside him like this, soft and boneless in the summer heat, as long as he still drags him to old, crumbling houses or tall billboards too close to the sky, Hyungwon is okay.

 

2.

When Minhyuk comes across the old, broken down house during one of his explorations beyond the city, he's elated. It's prefect, sitting there half overgrown with vegetation, brick and wooden walls still barely holding up but offering the canvas he didn't know he had been looking for. 

He takes pictures, pays strict attention when he retraces his steps to be sure he can find it again, later, when he comes back with his materials, and... And with Hyungwon, yeah, Hyungwon would like it, he would sit there with his knees drawn up against his chest, sleepy eyes trailed on Minhyuk's back while he paints, silent in a way that would be both comforting and familiar, taking everything Minhyuk would say in his thoughtful kind of way, answering always a beat too late.

It strikes him, then, that Hyungwon has become his fallback person. The one he goes to for impromptu midnight trips to the beach in the middle of winter, the one he finds himself perched with on tall billboards, watching the sunrise paint orange streaks on their skin. It used to be someone else, and the realization brings a strange tinge of sadness to his mood, a distinct feeling of loss over something that, in hindsight, never was, never really had a chance to be. 

Minhyuk shakes his head with a small smile, finding the trail that will lead him down, back towards the outskirts, to the little station where he will catch a train to the sprawling city just a few kilometers ahead. He takes his time, picking up a stick he uses to lightly whack at the vegetation on either side of the trail, listening to the cicadas and the occasional twittering of unseen birds up in the tall trees. It's warm, and his skin is glowing from a thin sheen of sweat, his shirt sticking to his back in a not entirely unpleasant way, his dirty blond hair splattered to his forehead. Everything feels like summer, in an almost cliché way.

He embraces this particular brand of sadness, then, files it away with the rest of his darker feelings, expelling a breath from his lungs that leaves him feeling lighter. Kihyun loves him, after all, he does, just not in the way he would have liked him to. It's all right, it happens, and the grief he feels over something that never was will soon be forgotten, will leave space for something else, maybe.

Minhyuk isn't an idiot, he knows those looks Hyungwon gives him, those awkward gestures of affection he seems to have no control over, and he knows of that sadness in his eyes, too, at least to some extent. It’s not an unpleasant thing to think about, and there’s a warmth next to his heart that didn’t used to be there. He acknowledges it, just as he acknowledged the mourning of his unreturned feelings, wondering if some tiny part of his mind knew something of this warmth for Hyungwon that the rest of him didn’t, and nudged him to Hyungwon's side without him even noticing. 

There's a rustling sound to his right that jostles him out of his thoughts and he stops walking, holding the stick in front of him like a sword, eyes trained on the bushes. It goes on for a fair bit, Minhyuk still and silent, and then there’s a flash of color and a red fox is crouching in the middle of the trail, looking as surprised as Minhyuk is to see him there. They stare at each other, both paralyzed, for what seems like an eternity. The red fox snaps out of it first, skittering away in the bushes on the other side of the trail, gone like a dream.

Minhyuk lets his stick fall to the ground and follows it down, sitting on the dusty earth, not caring about dirtying his pants. His heart is beating fast against his ribcage and he puts a hand on his chest until it calms down. The fox was beautiful, he thinks, its eyes specks of dark ink against red fur, and it had stared at Minhyuk's face with wonderment, as if asking, what are you? 

Minhyuk isn't so sure himself, he realizes. He's smoke, a swash of colors on a wall seen from a moving car; he's tall letters spelling a name no one knows who it belongs to. He wonders what Hyungwon sees when he looks at him, if maybe Hyungwon knows him better than he knows himself. He misses him, suddenly, lost in this splash of green, and he scrambles up to his feet just as the fox had done, running down the hill towards the little train station.

 

3.

"When I was here last time, I saw a fox."

Minhyuk doesn't open his eyes when he speaks, and his voice sounds slightly foreign in the still air of the late afternoon. There's a rustle to his right, Hyungwon stirring, shifting on the ground. His voice sounds faraway, too.

"A fox?"

"Yeah. He came out of the bushes on the trail."

"Is that him you painted on the wall?"

"Yeah, I guess. I wish we could see him again, when we get down."

There's a hum from Hyungwon and Minhyuk cracks an eye open, looks at him spread out on the grass. He scoots his hand slightly closer to his, their fingers millimeters away from touching. He wonders if that is what Hyungwon wants, their hands touching. They touch all the time, though, arms carelessly thrown around bony shoulders and narrow waists, legs tangled together, pressed up in tiny beds and freezing cars. Minhyuk wonders if Hyungwon wants him to attach a new meaning to these touches. Wonders if he can, if he's ready, if his feelings are enough, not lacking in ways of intensity.

"He'll be flattered you painted him."

"Were you?"

"Mh?"

"I painted you."

Hyungwon has a strangled sort of laugh and Minhyuk realizes they never talked about it, never talked about the portrait he did of Hyungwon, overlooking the river, its reflection forever changing in its dark waters. He wonders if that says anything about the depth of his feelings for Hyungwon, that he painted it. Wonders if the closeness he feels to him, the need to see him happy, the freedom to be who he is, whoever that is, when they're together, speaks of love, or something else. Love has always been Kihyun. He doesn't know if he can shape it in the form of someone else.

"I was touched."

"Mh?"

Hyungwon always answers a beat too late. Minhyuk shifts on his side, pillowing his head on his folded arm. Hyungwon still has his eyes closed, the sun shining through the leaves overhead painting strange shadows on his face. He looks warm, content, and suddenly Minhyuk wants to fit himself inside his ribcage, forever sheltered.

"I was touched. It gave me meaning, that something so beautiful could exist because I, myself, did. I thought maybe I was a bit beautiful, too, that if you saw me like this, maybe I wasn't doing everything wrong."

Not for the first time Minhyuk wonders what it is that Hyungwon carries inside him that makes him look so lonely. What he learned about his life speaks of hardships he knows well, no lost love between unwanted children and unfit parents, an existence without purpose that they cannot really give a meaning to.

He closes it, finally, the distance between their fingers, and Hyungwon’s skin is warm and smooth under his touch, as it always is. Hyungwon doesn’t react as he tangles their fingers together, doesn’t say a thing, his body melted against the grass in the summer heat.

“You never did anything wrong, Hyungwon.”

There’s a shift, and Hyungwon closes his fingers on Minhyuk’s own, face still turned towards the sky although his eyes remain closed.

“Sometimes, I wonder.”

Minhyuk waits for more, but nothing is coming, the words remain on Hyungwon’s lips and he doesn’t speak them. So Minhyuk doesn’t push, because he knows if the other wanted to tell him, he would. He scoots closer instead, his head falling against Hyungwon’s shoulder, listening to his breathing even out as the other falls asleep. He stays a long time, like this, looking up at the sky, and that, too, he files away, this quiet, warm moment out of time where they are almost happy, together.

 

4.

Minhyuk falls asleep in turn, without meaning to, and when he opens his eyes again, his hand is still in Hyungwon’s, but the latter is sitting up, back straight, staring ahead of himself. Minhyuk stretches, sits up, and when he looks in the same direction he understands the look of shock on his friend's face.

The red fox is here, sitting in the shade of the trees bordering the overgrown garden of the little house. Only his head is visible above the tall grass blades and he's staring straight at them, unmoving. Minhyuk feels like he should wave, but he's afraid that will spook him. So he just stares at the little animal, mouth slightly agape. The air is still between them, slightly oppressing, the heat of the afternoon radiating from the earth itself. Minhyuk reaffirms his hold on Hyungwon's hand and that seems to jolt him out of his trance as he looks down at their intertwined fingers, then up at Minhyuk's face, and there's something in his eyes like wonderment that brings a smile to the painter's face.

Time seems to stretch as the little fox doesn't move from his spot on the grass, and Minhyuk shifts slightly, fitting himself more firmly against Hyungwon's side.

This is who I am, he tells the fox. I like painting and exploring, and I like sitting in the grass doing nothing. I'm not particularly smart, nor do I have an amazing talent. I don't know why I am here, but maybe it doesn't matter if my life has no better purpose and I am not promised to a bright future. When I die, no one will really remember me, but the people who do will know that I was kind and that I tried my best, and they will know I loved them, and that's enough. We're scared and we're lost and maybe we will never be found, but as broken as we are we are a family, and we give each other meaning, and that's enough, too. I'm Lee Minhyuk, he tells the fox, and I'm enough.

The fox tilts its head to the side, considering him, and for a split second Minhyuk feels as if the animal actually heard him, but just then it ducks its head in the tall grass and disappears, ripples in the thick vegetation the only hint to where its gone. Minhyuk lets out a breath, then, almost shaky, and a shift beside him reminds him of Hyungwon's presence.

They're holding hands, still, and Hyungwon is staring at their intertwined fingers with a curious sort of look on his face. Meaning, Minhyuk thinks, he must give this meaning.

"I don't know if I'm in love with you," he blurts out, and Hyungwon is looking at him with huge eyes.

"What?"

Minhyuk doubts, then, maybe he was wrong, but no, it's there in Hyungwon's wary gaze, and there's a new resolve in his voice when he speaks again.

"I don't know if I'm in love with you. I love being with you, and it feels simple in a way nothing else is, even painting, and sometimes I miss you when you're not there, and there's always things I wanna show you, and I want to know you better, too. It is love, but I don't know if it is the kind of love that you want. I've been in love with someone else for so long I'm not even sure who I am without those feelings. But I will learn, I think."

Hyungwon doesn't answer for a while, but his face is torn between a grin and a frown and Minhyuk watches with fascination as his expression settles on a soft smile that turns his eyes into crescents.

"It's fine. I only want what you're prepared to give. I like watching you paint and holding your hand makes my heart beats faster. I wanna see what you wanna show me and if you miss me you can just call. And that will be enough."

“Even if there's never more?”

“Even if there's never more.”

It touches something inside Minhyuk, this kind of selflessness, and when he looks back, it has always been there. Hyungwon had never asked for anything, ever, while he gave everything freely. It’s there, then, this feeling, almost painful; he wants to love him so badly.

“You think I'm worth all of this.”

Hyungwon isn't sure what "all of this" is, but really, it could be anything, and he would never call it a loss. Minhyuk is bright eyes and sunny smiles as he’s walking on the edge of buildings and darker abysses still, and he has too much intensity, spilling colors everywhere; Hyungwon only wants to follow, wherever it might take him. 

“Yes.”

Minhyuk stares for a while, at Hyungwon who keeps this aching sort of softness in his gaze, on his lips. There’s another painting, there, Minhyuk thinks, before he leans slightly and kisses Hyungwon, chastely, on the mouth. It doesn’t last, a few seconds, and he’s scooting back, peeking at the other boy curiously.

“Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to.”

“Okay.”

Hyungwon seems satisfied with the explanation and it crosses Minhyuk’s mind again, this thought that Hyungwon knows him better than he knows himself.

“You know, half the time I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Why not? Won’t you grow tired of it?”

Hyungwon laughs then, bright and carefree, and it tugs at something soft in Minhyuk’s chest.

“How can I grow tired if I never know what’s coming?”

“And you don’t mind that I’m… Like this.”

Minhyuk waves his arms in an abstract gesture meant to encompass everything. He is not sure himself what he is like, but once again, Hyungwon seems to just know.

“No. I told you. I just want what you can give, nothing more. I’m satisfied with just being there.”

Minhyuk mulls it over for a bit, eyes dropped to their hands. They still haven’t let go of each other, and Minhyuk realizes that if Kihyun brought him back, Hyungwon grounded him. He’s finding himself, again, finally striking a sort of precarious balance in his hazardous life. And maybe it’s time to make space, to let go of the parts of himself that don’t mean anything anymore.

“I want you to stay with me.”

“I wasn’t really going anywhere.”

The painter nods once, twice, eyes trained on their clasped hands. They stay like this for a while, unmoving, until Hyungwon shifts slightly, bringing Minhyuk’s eyes back to his face.

“We should probably go, trains don’t run until very late around here.”

Minhyuk nods, and he’s silent the whole trek down to the deserted train station, lost in thoughts. Hyungwon doesn’t mind it.

 

5.

They kiss again, that night, in Hyungwon’s tiny bed, the covers pushed off themselves in a futile attempt to stay cool. Hyungwon isn’t sure what this means to Minhyuk, but he doesn’t ask, as the other slips a hand through his hair to bring their mouths together again. He finds that he doesn’t really mind, not knowing, it doesn’t matter, nothing does except for the physicality of Minhyuk there, his body against his, too warm, too skinny, a sharp elbow digging into his side.

They don’t do much else, the warmth of the day having melted the energy out of them, and if they’re not sleeping yet they’re almost lethargic, only slow touches and lazy kisses, half-form words on their lips they don’t bother to spell aloud, letting the other swallow them instead. Minhyuk laces their fingers together, buries his head in the crook of Hyungwon’s neck even as it should be too warm for touches.

This much is fine, he thinks, this much is okay. There’s a stirring in his belly, something waking up from a long hibernation by the warmth spreading in his chest from Hyungwon’s slow touches. He’s not sure what it is, yet. Love, affection, yearning, lust, or all these together, maybe. He won’t worry about it, he’ll let it grow on its own, and Hyungwon will be there, patient and safe and knowing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding Minhyuk's painting of the fox, of course you're free to imagine it however you want or not at all, but I was actually thinking of the style of a painter that operates in my hometown and paints giant animals all over the city: @warindawest  
> (btw I also have an insta, altho it's mostly pictures of my cat, you're welcome to come drop me a line or some memes or anything: @dictatoroak)


End file.
